


Afterglow

by Ange_de_la_Mort



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Season 3 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 08:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16552460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ange_de_la_Mort/pseuds/Ange_de_la_Mort
Summary: Shiro is back, Keith is overprotective, group hugs are nice.





	Afterglow

**Author's Note:**

> Something I'd done for Sheith Month 2k17 over at [Tumblr](http://ariodat.tumblr.com/post/163875956716/sheith-rating-t-wordcount-3800-summary-shiro).

This one night, the one where he is finally rescued, is mostly a blur, nothing much than he can still consciously remember later (he is almost getting used to it, to forgetting what has happened, to forgetting what is real).  
  
He remembers Keith, remembers gloved fingers on his cheek gently wiping the blood off his face – or at least trying to do so. He remembers the look in Keith’s eyes – relief and unbelievable happiness, eyes wide and bright – and maybe he even remembers a few tears, but he cannot be completely sure about it, cannot say who is crying and who isn’t, cannot know now or later how they’ve found him, how they’ve gotten close to where he’s been held and through their defenses.  
  
If he is honest with himself, it actually doesn’t matter at all.  
  
He remembers the knife in Keith’s hands, or maybe it’s not his knife but his bayard, maybe it has been like this before, with him barely conscious and Keith looming over him, fierceness and determination in his eyes and posture and every single one of his movements. And then he is free, his bonds cut and ripped apart, a sound that reminds him of being skinned alive, and he is not sure if he has ever really heard a sound like this, experienced the procedure first-hand, or if his muddled mind is simply trying to conjure some not-so-pleasant images for his entertainment.  
  
This, he decides, doesn’t matter, either.  
  
Keith grabs him by the shoulder, under his arms, to heave him up and help him to stand on shaky legs, to stabilize him when Shiro starts feeling dizzy.  
  
Moving is a shitty idea, he thinks. Everything is happening quickly, maybe way too quickly. But Keith is here. Keith is with him. He can feel his body, so familiar, so well-known, so warm, pressing against his side. Shiro holds onto him, digging naked fingers into his shoulders and upper arms, clutching his biceps underneath his fingertips in a vain attempt to get all the support he needs right this very moment (not just physically, as painful as it is to admit, but he is also in desperate need of support for his mind and what he thinks might be his soul. It’s Keith. It must be. If he isn’t, if this is nothing more than another of her sick mind games, something to wear him down and break his spirit, then he is afraid it might work this time. He fought tooth and nails for the better part of a year, with no hope of survival, of the possibility to escape, and just because there was no hope left for him, just because he had nothing to lose, he never stopped fighting. But now, Keith is back, is with him, and it simply has to be Keith or he won’t know what to do anymore), for his legs fail to work as they should and he loses his balance. He holds onto him for dear life.  
  
Thankfully, Keith does, too. Hold onto him. Desperately, worriedly. “You all right?”  
  
_Sure_ , he wants to say. _Sure, whatever you want, let’s just get out of here_. But it isn’t this easy, he already knows it’s not. It never is this easy, for his fingers lose their grip, his nails scrape over the material of Keith’s armor. There are black dots dancing in front of his eyes, all thanks to his efforts, to his agitations and worries, and even as Shiro drops onto his knees and side, even as he watches Keith reach out for him – his face contorted in a cross between fear and worry -, he thinks that this simply has to be Keith.  
  
And that means that Shiro is safe. For now.  
  
And even while he’s losing consciousness, he smiles, feeling at ease for the first time in forever.  
  
-  
  
Waking up is uncomfortable to say the least. Especially since his bones are broken and every movement, every breath hurts. Especially when someone is pulling at his clothing, tearing it from his body, when hands, fingers prod and poke him, looking for bruises and trying in vain to fix his broken ribs.  
  
It’s even more uncomfortable when the pain makes him teeter on the edge to unconsciousness again and again.  
  
But he knows it’s necessary, knows they need to check if he needs to go into the cryo tank or if everything is going to heal by itself (even though he thinks that’s stupid. It’s obvious what’s wrong with him, they all know letting all this heal naturally would take weeks. They all know they don’t have that kind of time, but still …). Slowly he cracks his eyes open, only to squeeze them shut immediately as the bright, white light above him blinds him. It’s the light of the castle, not the one of a Galra lab, which is reassuring, which makes him let out a deep, exhausted sigh.  
  
Someone is saying his name.  
  
He listens more closely, forces his clouded mind to recognize the words. Forces himself to open his eyes again in order to see just who is there next to him (although he knows, hopes, prays that it’s Keith, because it just has to be him).  
  
And yes, he sees his face above him, sees his lips being pulled into a relieved smile, sees the shine in his eyes. “Hey man. Just so you know, you look like shit.”  
  
Shiro wants to answer him, wants to tell him that he is happy to see him as well, but all that tumbles over his lips is an exhausted, pained noise.  
  
Keith simply smiles and shakes his head softly. “Sorry. Don’t want to hurt you. Didn’t want to, either. But we had to check if we can fix you like this or if he have to put you in the cryo suit and one of the healing tanks.”  
  
He licks his dry, chapped lips and forces his lips to part into a smile, one that stings for a second. That’s fine, though. It makes this moment real. It makes him remember that he’s back. “I’m almost getting used to wearing a onesie.”  
  
“Cute. But we’re out of pacifiers and teething rings, just so you don’t get disappointed.”  
  
Shiro laughs, a coughing bark, and then lets out a quiet groan. His fingers are twitching, he wants to press his hands against every aching bone in his body, lay an arm across his stomach to protect it, but his limbs feel as heavy as lead and yet again his sight goes blurry.  
  
Then, there’s a hand on his cheek. The warm, soft leather of the fingerless gloves, Keith’s always cool fingertips, caressing his skin and patting his cheek (he catches himself leaning into the touch). “’s fine, Shiro. ’s fine. Don’t worry, we’re gonna fix you.”  
  
“Anything else would be a disappointment and reflect in your grades, cadet.”  
  
Keith scoffs quietly and shakes his head a little. “You’re such an idiot.”  
  
“I’m trying.”  
  
“Yeah, then try to get back on track, okay? Or I’m gonna bend you over my knee and give you a good trashing.”  
  
He shoots him a tired smile and closes his eyes again, relieved to feel unconsciousness tugging on the corners of his mind again. “Sure thing, sir.”  
  
-  
  
Keith is with him when he wakes up. Although waking up might be the wrong word. He automatically opens his eyes as the cryo capsule opens, as the icy air that surrounded him leaves it with a hiss, floods the room, as the cold liquid that healed him evaporizes. It’s not like waking up from a dream or a short nap. It’s more like his consciousness is hitting him in the face while instilling him with several gallons of coffee. He’s not _awake_ , he’s _there_ , instantly.  
  
Unfortunately, while his brain realizes that, his body still needs a moment to adjust, because when he wants to take the first step forward, out of the capsule on to his way to freedom, he collapses in on himself, falling forward.  
  
But Keith is there. Again. Always. Everywhere. Keith holds him, arms wrapped around his waist and cheek pressed against his shoulder, holds him upright until Shiro’s limbs slowly warm up and manage to function by themselves. Only once Shiro is back upright and can keep steady by himself, he slowly lets him go, but stays by his side, like he’s worried Shiro might collapse yet again at any moment.  
  
To be honest, Shiro is worried about that as well, so he’s kind of glad to have Keith with him.  
  
He’s not sure how much time has passed between his “abduction” by the Black Lion and this moment right now. He only knows that he was with her for far too long, with her and with the other Galra, who don’t serve Zarkon anymore, but _him_. He only knows that _he_ is much, much worse than his father.  
  
He only knows that he’s here now, not at home, but at least here, safe and sound.  
  
With Keith. With the others, who all surround him, wrapping their arms around him, even when Keith tells them off - barks at them -, that they should leave him be until he’s more steady and not in danger of being dogpiled and toppling over.  
  
“It’s okay,” he says quietly, but resolutely, his voice still raspy and rough. “It’s okay.”  
  
He holds Pidge tightly and she holds him, has her face buried against his chest as he pretends he doesn’t notice she’s crying, doesn’t notice the way her small body is shaking, doesn’t notice the fabric of the cryo suit getting wet.  
  
He clasps a hand around Lance’s shoulder to help him stay balanced as Lance more or less just jumps on his back, leaning forward until he’s almost falling down again. With the broadest grin on his face, Lance laughs and wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck, keeps holding onto him as if he never wants to let him go.  
  
He smiles at Hunk, who’s just standing next to him, digging his nails into Shiro’s wrist hard, almost as if he’s scared Shiro might vanish again, right from underneath his hands.  
  
Allura is there. Allura and Coran are both there, standing a little to the side, but looking just as relieved as the others. He smiles at them, too.  
  
And then there’s Keith. Of course there’s Keith who glares at them surly, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, lips only a thin, tense line. Keith, who watches them for the span of one heartbeat, of two, and then separates them: He grabs Lance by the ear and pulls him off of Shiro, ignoring the surprised gasps as Lance topples over and ends up on his butt next to Pidge, pouting and grumbling at Keith. He pushes Hunk and Pidge aside, too, although with much less force. “Let him get back on track, guys!”, he says and grabs Shiro’s hand (Shiro is sure it’s supposed to be a platonic gesture, but he remembers these fingers on his skin, his cheek, and he can’t resist squeezing Keith’s hand a little), carefully pulls him away from the others. “Shiro needs rest. We can celebrate later.”  
  
“Celebrate?” Shiro asks quietly. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards. "Don’t tell me I’m getting a welcome party?”  
  
Lance gets back on his feet and dusts off his pants. “Yeah, well, maybe, but also you missed my birthday.” He shrugs and looks at the ceiling. “I mean, that was kind of an asshole thing to do, man. Pretty unfair to just disappear before my big day. So we gotta catch up on that.”  
  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a party pooper.”  
  
“You weren’t. There was no party. Not yet, anyway.” Now Lance looks at him again and sighs, a smile on his features. “It would’ve been wrong. Without you. So we gotta catch up on all that when you’re done catching some z’s. If you ask nicely, you’ll even get a party hat and a piece of my cake.”  
  
“As long as it’s real, actual cake and not food goo, I’ll do anything you want from me,” Shiro replies and catches himself thinking about how much he’s missed them. All of them. Not just Keith.  
  
Keith pulls at his hand. “Guys. Shiro needs his rest. Now.”  
  
Shiro huffs out a breath and shakes his head. “Yes, sir, as you wish, sir. Well, you’ve heard it, guys”, he apologizes and lets himself be pulled away by Keith. Looking back, he notices Hunk’s gaze: nondescript and lost in thought, one eyebrow raised and a deep crease between his eyes. Shiro doesn’t know what to think of that, but decided to take care of it later.  
  
For now, it’s nice to be taken care of.  
  
-  
  
It’s hell, the way Keith cares for him and the way he acts. Like a mother hen worrying about her youngest chick. It’s been almost a week since his return and he constantly feels like Keith is creeping around him, watching him. Whenever he’s in the training room, trying to get back in shape, whenever he shows even the tiniest amount of exhaustion, Keith is with him, a packet of space water in his hand and a worried expression in his eyes. Whenever he walks back to his room he thinks he can hear Keith’s footsteps in the distance, just far enough behind to be able to hide around a corner or a pillar whenever Shiro turns around.  
  
It’s absolutely obnoxious. Even if he can somehow understand him. He’d probably not react any different. Not much different. Maybe a little.  
  
But in the end, he can relate, can relate to Keith and his thoughts. The first time Shiro vanished they thought he was dead, that much he knows by now. They didn’t know anything about the Galra back then, about other worlds and the many, many stars in the sky. They didn’t know there may be things out there that are worse than death.  
  
But now they know. Now they know the Galra, their cruelty and relentlessness. Shiro has to think about what Keith must’ve imagined (them forcing him to fight again and again, him standing in the arena, hurt and out of balance, against enemies who are taller than him, taller and heavier and more malicious, them take him apart, limb for limb, piece by piece - Shiro shudders at the thought, balls his metal hand into a fist). It’s not hard, because whatever Keith has imagined, Shiro has lived through already, has seen first-hand, felt with his very own body and spirit.  
  
… still, he’s happy it has been him, back then, with the Galra, and not the others. Not because he believes they’d have had less of a chance or because he believes they wouldn’t have been able to take the torture, but … but because he’d never want them to get hurt. Because all of them have grown onto him so much. Most of all -  
  
“Keith!” He stops in the middle of his path, crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I know you’re here. Stop sneaking after me and tell me what’s wrong.” He waits a moment before finally turning around, just quickly enough to see a bit of Keith’s jacket peeking out behind a corner.  
  
Keith’s face follows first, worried and sceptical, then the rest of his body and Shiro can see his shoulders hanging down, can hear him sigh quietly and watch him sheepishly lowering his gaze before he finally, slowly trudges towards him. “… hey.”  
  
“Hey.” Shiro’s gaze grows softer, more gentle, and he can feel a small smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “Don’t you have anything better to do than stalking me?”  
  
Keith just shrugs and makes a quiet noise and it’s almost impossible to be angry at him. He can’t bear to look at Shiro, his eyes are fixed to a point somewhere on the wall next to Shiro’s left ear.  
  
“Like … training?” he tries, his brows raised, his voice playful. “Spending some quality bonding time with your lion? Both of them? Or maybe you wanna spend some time arguing with Lance or stargazing with Pidge and Hunk?”  
  
“… maybe later,” is all the answer he gets.  
  
“There’s no _later_ right now, Keith. There’s just _the middle of the night_. We should all go to bed. That includes you.”  
  
“I know-” Now it’s Keith who crosses his arms in front of his chest and Shiro knows he’s lost. He knows this gesture, knows Keith well enough to realize that this goddamn stubborn boy won’t be kept from following Shiro around to make sure he doesn’t just disappear again or slips through the shower drain or gets abducted by the creatures from his nightmares and their shared reality.  
  
“Keith … ” he starts, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it a little. Keith blinks, looks at Shiro’s hand and then - finally! - at his face. “Keith,” he says again and smiles. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”  
  
“I know. I … I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s not your fault.”  
  
_Funny. You still sound like I’ve let you down and disappointed you_. He lets out a sigh, hesitates for a second - just long enough to feel his heart beating in his throat -, and then he pulls Keith into his arms, embraces him tightly. He feels the warmth of Keith’s body, feels how he tenses up under his fingers, his touch, a moment, two, and how he leans towards him with a sigh, putting his arms around him and pressing his face into the crook of his neck. Shiro buries his nose in Keith’s hair and pats his shoulder as Keith digs his nails into his back.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he says again, more quietly this time, murmuring the words into Keith’s hair.  
  
“You missed Lance’s birthday. That was a total dick move.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
"He was absolutely unbearable.”  
  
“Keith, I _already_ told you. I’m sorry. What else do you want to hear?”  
  
“You could say it again, that’d be a good start.”  
  
Shiro chuckles lowly. “I’m gonna make it up. To all of you.”  
  
“That’s the least you can do!” Keith looks up at him, a small pout on his lips and he looks so incredibly upset that Shiro can’t hold back a laugh. “Hey! What’s so funny?”  
  
“I just remembered that you were standing guard in front of my door last night.”  
  
“What? No. I … I wasn’t!”  
  
“I almost fell over you this morning.”  
  
“That’s impossible. Because I wasn’t there. At all.”  
  
Shiro laughs again, quiet and full of adoration. “You were snoring.”  
  
“I … uhm, well … ” Keith looks to the side, clears his throat. The tips of his ears turn red and he shrugs a little. “Maybe I came across your room. Completely coincidentally, of course.”  
  
“And you coincidentally fell asleep in front of the door.”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
Shiro hugs him tighter, runs a hand through his hair. Keith doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t flinch away. It’s a good sign, one that gives him hope. He bites down on his lower lip and takes a deep breath. “Hey … what do you think … wanna skip the part about sleeping outside and just stay with me? Tonight?”  
  
Now not just Keith’s ears turn red, and Shiro himself can feel his cheeks grow hot a little at his choice of words. Before he can clarify anything, though, Keith speaks again: “The beds in here are kinda narrow, sleeping is gonna be hard and uncomfortable.“  
  
"More uncomfortable than the floor?”  
  
“Maybe!”  
  
It takes him a lot of will-power to not just roll his eyes and groan. “Maybe, huh? Then, maybe, we can just skip sleeping and do other things?” … No, wait, wrong choice of words again. That came out wrong. He didn’t mean it like that. He quickly lets go of Keith, making sure to step back until there’s an arm’s length between them, and raises his hands. “I mean … I … ”  
  
Keith looks at him like he’s gone crazy: speechless, stunned, mouth hanging open just a little.  
  
“We could _talk_! Okay? I meant we have a lot to talk about. With each other,” he clarifies hastily and maybe even a bit more defensive than necessary.  
  
Keith resumes looking at him and slowly frowns – and Shiro just wishes the ground would open up and swallow him. Then Keith grants him a surprisingly shy smile. "Talk, huh?”  
  
“Yeah, talk,” he says and flashes him a smile of his own. “About whatever you want … and about whatever keeps you from tying me up somewhere so that you can be sure I’m not gonna run away anymore.”  
  
Now, his smile isn’t a thin one, anymore, not a hesitating one. Now Keith’s lips split into a wide grin and he closes his eyes while shaking his head. “Fine,” he says, and then once more: “Fine. Sounds nice. But I’m warning you, Shiro.” He pokes his index finger against Shiro’s chest repeatedly and inches closer to him, steps on the tip of his toes to make sure he can look Shiro directly in the eye. He’s so close their noses almost touch. “If I wake up tomorrow and you’re neither in my arms or in the room at all, I’ll hunt you down and drag you back kicking and screaming.”  
  
He chuckles. “Yes, sir. That’s fair.”  
  
“And _then_ I’ll tie you up. Or get you a collar with a bell attached, so I can find you in a crowd.”  
  
“Uhm … you’re being a little straightforward here, aren’t you?”  
  
“Think so?” Keith grins and grabs his hand, gives it a squeeze. “Maybe we should talk about that.”  
  
Shiro blinks in surprise and just looks at Keith, looks at their hands and back to his face. And then he shrugs his shoulders with a laugh and intertwines their fingers. “Sure. whatever you say.”  
  
So Keith holds on to him and drags him – one more time – somewhere else, this time to Shiro’s very own quarters. In front of the door, he comes to a halt and turns his head a little, looks Shiro up and down, his gaze serious and loving at the same time. “Hey, Shiro? Maybe we can do a bit more than just talk.”  
  
Wait, what. “… oh.”  
  
“You have a lot to make up to, after all. And I’d really like to kiss you. A lot.”  
  
“I- oh.”  
  
Keith clucks his tongue. “Come on, cadet, you’ve done so good before. It’s not ‘oh’, it’s 'yes, sir’, make sure to remember that or it’s gonna reflect on your grade.”  
  
He knows Keith is making fun of him, but can’t even laugh at it right now.  
  
“… oh,” is all that he mutters under his breath as they step through the door and close it for the rest of the night.

 


End file.
